


a vision softly creeping

by AngWrites



Series: James Potter Finds Out [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marauders' Era, everyone is shocked including me, explicit list-writing content, i'm sorry you deserve better, james potter exercises self-control, unforgivable glaring lack of opera-singing hats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngWrites/pseuds/AngWrites
Summary: James makes a list to try and figure out why Sirius is pissed at him and Remus thinks he's an idiot. It goes astonishingly well. There are realizations, and confessions, though not in that order. (Remus was right: James is an idiot. An extremely oblivious idiot.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Because a vision softly creeping_   
>  _Left its seeds while I was sleeping_   
>  _And the vision that was planted in my brain_   
>  _Still remains..._
> 
> \--Simon & Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"

James Potter knew two things, and two things only, for certain:

  1. Sirius Black was angry at him. Angry enough to be daily on the verge of chucking him out a window and then throttling him.
  2. Remus Lupin thought he was dumber than a box of rocks.
  3. Lily Evans was eventually going to fall in love with him.



Some might think that was three things, and that the third was unrelated, but James knew better. The third was always relevant. To everything.

But, perhaps slightly closer to the topic at hand, and more pressing (for now), was the fact that he had no idea why numbers one and two were true. They definitely were. He just hadn't determined the cause.

He had, however, mounted evidence as proof of their veracity. And so, at two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, when it was beautiful and sunny—probably one of the last crisp fall days he'd ever experience at Hogwarts—when he should've been outside at the lake with his three friends, idly throwing a Snitch or perhaps seeing what things he could chuck into the lake to get the Giant Squid's attention, he was sitting in the Library (horrors!), compiling a list of said evidence, in the hopes that it would shed light on this odd turn of events.

Truly, he was living in strange times.

_Item the First._

He liked that turn of phrase. It was fancy. And more importantly, it was what Remus had said when he'd been listing off the ingredients they needed for a potion that would make Dumbledore's hat sing opera on and off for three days.  
  


"Item the first," said Remus. "Eight ounces of peppermint oil. Wait, that can't be right—"

"You wrote it down, it must be right," said Sirius.

"It can't be, that's enough peppermint oil to kill somebody, the smell alone would destroy the hat in seconds," said Remus, peering at his parchment. "This must mean eight milliliters, or an eighth of a teaspoon—"

"I hate peppermint oil," said Peter, shuddering.

"Of course you do, you're a rat," said James, then shrugged when they all looked at him. "I heard Evans talking about her mum trying to rid of mice, you soak something called cotton bowls in peppermint and leave them around the house."

"Cotton _ball_ , James," said Remus.

"Ball of bowls," said Sirius.

"That's not a thing," said Peter.

"Split the difference and say eight teaspoons," said James.

"How is that splitting the difference?"

"Dunno," said James. "Something about peppermint, who cares. What's the second thing?"

"Castor oil? That can't be right either, I must have been distracted while I was copying this potion," said Remus.

Sirius snickered, for some reason. When Remus looked at him, he grinned. "C'mon, you remember. That was last Thursday. You know, the day after we found out you can—"

"Right," said Remus, whose smile was creeping around the rest of his face's attempt to look annoyed. "I remember." When James squinted at him, he smiled for real. "Anyway, I suppose I was thinking about other things that day. Sorry?"

James opened his mouth to retort, then shut it. Then squinted at Sirius and Remus. And then Peter, for good measure, but Peter just squinted back, so whatever it was, Peter wasn't in on it, at least. 

__

"Wait," James said. "What?"

Sirius groaned. "Never mind. Remus, want to go see if we can find it in the textbook? Or get Slughorn to tell us again? Or just spend another hour in the Restricted Section, doing, uh. Research?"

"Fantastic plan," said Remus, tossing his notes at James, who fumbled the catch rather badly, but it didn't matter because they weren't looking at him anymore. Except Sirius, who gave him a rather withering look over his shoulder. And then Remus did the same, except his was a bit pitying. So yes, they both looked at him, saw him drop parchment all over the floor, and left the room. At least Peter wasn't judging him, but Peter still looked confused by everything that just happened, so that wasn't much consolation.

"Amazing," said James, and sighed, looking at Peter. "Don't suppose you were paying attention during that class."

"Nope," said Peter, popping the "p." "Why d'you think they're really researching?"

"What?"

"Sirius practically raced out of here to go to the Library with Remus," Peter said, as if he was explaining something particularly simple to someone particularly dim. "They can't just be researching a potion."

"A potion to make Dumbledore's hat sing opera," James pointed out. "It's not exactly homework."

"Still, though."

James shrugged, conceding the point. "No idea," he said. "Did you get the feeling he expected you to know something?"

"I've never gotten that feeling," Peter said.

"Right," said James. "Of course not."  
  


_Left in the middle of prank planning to go to the Library together, then acted like I should know why, and also like it was a Disappointment when I did not._

James finished this sentence off with a flourish, and stared at it. Okay, so in retrospect, something was deeply, _deeply_ suspicious about that. He couldn't put his finger on what they could have been doing, though, or why Sirius was so furious at him for not knowing.

Could it really have been research? Some kind of research they told James about while he wasn't listening and was instead staring at Lily Evans?

James made a note of this: _Maybe wasn't listening when they told me what they're researching? Together? Without me?_

If they were even researching at all, which James was beginning to doubt. He decided to make a separate list of other things they could do without him, but drew several blanks when he tried, and gave it up as a bad job.

Better off sticking to the main list.

 _Item #2_ , he wrote. Fancy language really wasn't his style.  
  


"You sound like an idiot when you try to talk like that," said Lily.

"Alas, my dear Evans, what thou meanest when thou say'st such fanciful nonsense as thou art prone to speak'st, is, to talk, in the high style of the great poets—"

That was as far as James got. Lily hexed him before he could finish.

"Oh thank god," said Remus, traitorous werewolf bastard that he was. "He was giving me hives."

"Oh, hives is a good idea," said Lily, raising her wand.

"No, no, the boils are enough," said Sirius. "They'll take a while to pop, won't they Prongsie?"

"Oh god it burns," said James.

"Right," said Lily. "Just don't let him butcher Elizabethan English ever again, or the boils will be on his tongue. Good day, gentlemen."

Remus waited until she was out of sight to reverse the hex, although, "You did have it coming," he pointed out.

"Forsooth," said Sirius.

"Don't think I won't hex you," said Remus.

Sirius grinned at him, unrepentant. There was a fond gleam in his eye, something James couldn't quite place, but it wasn't unusual so he didn't think about it much. "You'd do it where James could see, so he could reverse it," he said, smiling his way into Remus's personal space.

Remus didn't shove him away. "I wouldn't if he wasn't _always around_ , attached to you like a barnacle."

"Why, would you rather someone else be stuck to my face?" Sirius said, leering.

"A better face, for a start," said Remus, but his smirk meant that Sirius just snickered, and still didn't move away.

James ignored all of this, and instead focused on inspecting his arm to make sure the last boil faded away properly, then looked, up, grinning, at both of them. "Right," he said. "Whose hair should we set on fire? I feel like setting someone's hair on fire."

Sirius's glare could have set _his_ hair on fire. Why was Sirius glaring at him like that?

Remus rolled his eyes. "Are we really regressing back to first year? You could at least make the flames pink," he said.

" _Yes_ ," said James.

" _No_ ," said Sirius.

They both stared at him.

"Hogsmeade is this weekend and I don't want to spend it in detention," he said, with a meaningful—wait, what did it mean?—look at Remus.

"Right," said Remus. "Good point."

"Both of you were planning to skip this one," said James.

Now Sirius had returned to glaring, and oh look at that, Remus was doing it too.

"Yes, well," said Sirius. "We have things to do."

"Things?"

" _Things_ ," he said, significantly, though James didn't grasp the significance. "C'mon, Moony, let's go do them. _Elsewhere_."

And Remus followed, without a backwards glance at James, who was left standing in the hallway, befuddled, feeling somehow sillier than he had a few minutes ago when he was covered in boils.  
  


_Referenced inside jokes and—references—that I don't know about, then left me in the hallway._

James stared at this sentence for a minute, trying to think of a better way to phrase it. Nothing came to him, so instead he drew an angry frowny-face at the end of it.

 _ _We are a_ team_, he wrote under it, and underlined "team" several times. Why would they have inside jokes that he wasn't...inside of?

 _Rude_ , he added.

That seemed to cover it.

 _Item #3_. This list was getting long, and turning into more work than expected. He hoped he had an epiphany soon.  
  


"You had better have an epiphany soon, Prongs, or I am going to throw you off this tower."

"No epiphany," James said, staring at the empty parchment that was supposed to be homework but then seemed destined for greatness and now was just an empty husk of his once-great brain. "Not even a piphany. God, it's _hot_."

It was, too. It was unseasonably warm for late September, and they were all drowning in it, taking even longer to get back into the swing of school when all they wanted to do was lay out in the last of the summer sun and not think about the fact that this was their last year. Even Remus, who was steadily working away at the assignment they were all ignoring, had spent every spare moment on the grounds, or talking to Sirius on their secret roof hideout that they thought James didn't know about.

"Hence the plan to turn the dorm into a glacier," said Sirius. "But you've failed us."

"No he hasn't," said Peter, before James could snap. "He just needs to think. C'mon, James."

Something about the way Peter said it made James want to snarl in return, but he gritted his teeth and forced the urge back. 

Or maybe not. "Maybe you lot can do some of the work for once," he said. "It wouldn't kill you, would it?"

Peter fell back as if stung, and Remus looked up from where he was steadily working on the homework they'd all started on. 

"James," he said.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh, never mind, sorry Peter, you're not dead weight at _all_ , I'm definitely not the only one doing fucking anything here—"

"I didn't mean—" Peter started.

"You never do," said Sirius. "Oh, stuff it, Wormtail, it isn't about you, James is just throwing a fit."

"I am _not_ ," James insisted.

"You definitely are," said Remus.

"Like you're carrying your weight over here," said Sirius. "Sitting there doing _homework_. I ask you."

"It's due in three hours," said Remus. He didn't look up from his writing. "And I would've gotten it done a lot sooner if you hadn't—"

"WELL," said Sirius loudly. "We all know what excuse you're going to make and no one wants to hear it, mate."

"We do?" said James.

"Wait, you don't?" said Remus.

"I just meant," said Peter. "I think you can do it! You're selling yourself short!"

"Great motivational speech, everything's fixed now!" said James, then glared at Peter's hopeful look. "That was _sarcasm_. Christ, haven't you learned to recognize it yet?"

"Right," said Peter. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to him, he's being a twat," said Sirius, but when Peter opened his mouth to respond, he ignored him and kept talking. "Although you know, Moony, you could help the poor bastard out. Don't tell me you wouldn't figure out what he's doing wrong if you spent thirty seconds thinking about it."

"Oh, so now I'm an idiot," said James. "I don't see you thinking of anything."

"I'm watching Remus do homework," said Sirius.

"Perv," muttered Remus. He really was concentrating—was this assignment actually that difficult? Maybe James should've read it, or looked up what it was.

"Never heard you complain before," said Sirius.

"Was I complaining?"

Sirius grinned, before noticing James was watching him and abruptly schooling his face. "Anyway," he said. "Really, it's his fault."

"Write even _one_ foot of this essay and I'll give you five minutes," said Remus.

"Deal," said Sirius, pulling a book towards him. For some reason, that made Remus laugh.

"Not that kind of five minutes," he said, finally looking up. "Anyway, I was talking to James."

" _Wow_ ," said Sirius. "That fast, huh? But I guess I knew this was coming, deep down, that you'd never stay forever, pulled in by the siren call of the terrible glasses, the even worse hair—"

Remus had to hide his fond smile by looking back down at his books, but James didn't miss the way Sirius ducked his head to try to keep his gaze, the way Remus flicked his eyes back up before turning away, or even the way Sirius's grin widened as he pretended to look down, too.

James felt suddenly very, _very_ left out. Which, come to think of it, was becoming a common occurrence. What on earth was going on with them? Even he and Sirius had never fake-flirted this much, not even in fifth year when they'd found it hilarious to make everyone around them uncomfortable with innuendo.

He glanced at Peter, who had missed the whole exchange because he was looking at him, worried, and sighed. "Sorry, Pete," he said, and meant it this time. "I'm off my game today. Not your fault."

Peter shrugged. "It's fine," he said. "What did Lily Evans do this time?"

James blinked, then sighed and seized on this for the convenient excuse it was. "D'you know, I think she _smiled_ at me in Charms, but then later, when we were talking to the Prefects—"

Sirius groaned and started talking loudly about their homework, just to drown him out, and everything went back to normal, but James couldn't quite shake the sense that he was missing something. Something that Remus apparently thought was extremely obvious.

This was confirmed an hour later, when James was actually halfway through the essay and Remus deigned to talk him through the spells for the Common Room Glacier. He immediately pointed out five things James had completely disregarded, and with Sirius's help had convinced him that a glacier was a bit ambitious for such a small space, but they could reasonably give the illusion of ice caves, which coincidentally would be _fantastic_ to have a snowball fight in.

By the end of it, Sirius was laughing hard, head flung back, and Remus, now done with his work, had abandoned all pretense of caring whether they did theirs. Instead, he was flicking his wrist, making it snow on them to illustrate a point. He was even grinning outright, a grin that grew brighter whenever he looked at Sirius.

James grinned too, but more in the lovely anticipatory feeling of an upcoming prank than anything else. It wasn't _that_ funny.

But his friends were happy again, and he was cheering up, so that was fine.  
  


_Excessively and nonsensically happy around each other, even over boring everyday shit._

This one was a bit more promising, because James could look at it and point, and say, this. This is proof there is something going on.

Because Remus and Sirius had always spent time together without him. Not as much as this year, but that still didn't mean anything on its own. There was some kind of connection there that James didn't understand, but had never seen the need to interrogate too closely.

After all, Remus had been thrown into their little group in the first place because Sirius had squinted at him one day, said "What's your deal, mate? Are you turned on by homework?" and Remus had surprised them all by responding "You have to admit it's prettier than your ugly mug" without even looking up. This had surprised a barking laugh out of Sirius, and James, feeling a spike of interest in the bookish bloke who'd just thrown Sirius Black off his rhythm, had proceeded to get into a shoving match with Sirius over who got to ask Remus Lupin ridiculous questions next.

In the end, they'd teamed up, built on each other's silliness and laughing in delight at the even more silly answers Remus gave, until they actually got a laugh out of him.

James had sat back, satisfied and assured that this was the start of a beautiful friendship but willing to let Remus come out of his shell slowly.

But Sirius had drawn him into a real conversation. James couldn't even remember what it was about, but he did remember the look on Sirius's face, like he had just discovered something amazing, and the way Remus, in his shy eleven-year-old way, had seemed unsure of exactly what had just happened, but pleased anyway.

So it had been like that from the beginning. Sirius, constantly surprised and delighted by the mystery that was Remus Lupin, and Remus, forever giving in and laughing in spite of himself.

If something had changed, they would've told James, right?

Right?

 _Item #4_. James knew, somehow, that when he was finished with this he'd have a conclusion that would be impossible to ignore.  
  


"Even _you_ can't ignore it, Potter," Lucius Malfoy said, sneering the sneer that made James want to rip his intestines out and decorate the Slytherin Common Room with them. "Our time has come, and little Mudbloods had best be taught their _place_ , sooner rather than later."

James had hustled away the first years he'd been tormenting, handed the kids off to their friends and a nearby Prefect to get them to the Hospital Wing right away. But he couldn't shake the image of the looks on their faces.

He could feel Sirius vibrating with rage next to them, and even Remus was tight-lipped in a way that meant he wasn't going to be the one holding anyone back.

But James had a Head Boy badge on his chest, and a whole host of students staring at him, some new and some old, all waiting to see how he'd react to a seventh year bullying first years because of who their parents were.

So instead of hexing the bastard on the spot, James summoned an ice-cold calm he hadn't even known was in him, and said, "And what place is that, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's eyes were bright with malice. "Crawling," he said. "On the _ground_. You've seen the _Prophet_ , haven't you? They deserve it, scum that they are."

Without looking, James flung an arm out in front of Sirius, holding him back. _Wait_ , he thought. _Please, just wait_. "Really?" he said out loud, as conversationally as he could. "Because it seems to me that article was written by a racist, bigoted shithead who's just bitter that his equally racist, bigoted son is coming in fifth place in every class to a Muggle-born, a Half-Blood, and two so-called ‘blood traitors.' But then that's never been the biggest problem your family has had with mine, is it? You just never could get over a South Indian woman beating you people out to a seat in the Wizengamot."

"Watch your mouth, Pot—" Malfoy started, now looking more angry, but James wasn't finished.

"It must really burn your ass that as soon as you're forced to treat other people fairly, you immediately start losing," he said. "Can't manage being on true equal footing, can you? So you have to pretend other people are lesser to convince yourself it's their fault you're not measuring up."

Malfoy spat on the floor. Actually spat. "That's what I think of you," he said.

"What, couldn't think of a spell to use?" James taunted, now fully geared up. "I thought your lot were all about the purity of magic. How would daddy feel if he found out you were expressing yourself like a Muggle?"

That did it. James didn't even know what curse he cast, but he was ready, casting _Protego_ over the group that had collected in the hallway. The spell misfired, and as soon as his—and Remus's, because he had cast it at the same time as James—spell faded, Sirius cast _Expelliarmus_ with malicious precision, and caught Malfoy's wand grimly.

Not that it mattered. Malfoy's spell had backfired, hitting him square in the chest. He was blasted backwards, blood pouring from him as though he was being slashed with a knife. 

James lowered his own wand, breathing hard. Professor McGonagall was striding into the fray, and when she saw Malfoy she rounded on James, about to tear him a new one, but several students immediately jumped to his defense, yelling in a loud jumble of words that it had been in self-defense, Malfoy had started it, Malfoy had cursed another student, James had protected them, Sirius had only disarmed him—

McGonagall gave them all a searching look, but nodded sharply and instructed two Ravenclaw seventh years to get Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey, but to stay with him and keep him away from the first years he'd cursed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for using magic in the corridors," she said, taking Malfoy's wand from Sirius. She had to hold up a hand to stem the tide of protest that erupted at these words. "And ten more _to_ Gryffindor for your assistance with the first years, assuming the word of your classmates is true. Malfoy's punishment will be decided later. Now get back to your dormitories, all of you, it's almost curfew. Not you, Potter. You come with me."

It was a while after that before they were all together in their dorm again. James collapsed on his bed immediately, worn out from the effort of not punching Malfoy in his stupid racist face. At least Lily Evans had looked astonished and confused when she saw him, instead of her usual spiteful disdain.

"He didn't even let Black hex him," James had heard her friend Mary say as he walked past. He'd fought the urge to turn and brag, take credit for being an amazing mature reformed pillar of virtue.

Instead he'd just glanced back, shrugged at the look Lily was giving him, and walked away. After all, he was tired, and just really wanted to be alone with his friends again.

Why he'd wanted that, he couldn't remember. Sirius was all keyed up, high on adrenaline and admiration for getting away scot-free even though he'd have "hexed his balls off, mate, I was ready to do it, too. But you talked him into doing it to himself!"

"Who knew that was even possible," said Remus. The words were dry, but there was a faint note of approval in his voice.

"I wish I'd been there," Peter said admiringly. "It sounds like it was amazing."

"Thanks," said James into his pillow. He was about to shut his eyes and demand that they shut the hell up and let him sleep, when something occurred to him.

"Why _didn't_ you?" he asked Sirius, looking up.

"Didn't what?"

"Hex his balls off. No one's ever been able to stop you before. But when the Shield Charm dropped, you just disarmed him."

"Oh, that," said Sirius. "Remus's idea. He picked up on what you were doing and said I should keep it simple, Stun or disarm him as soon as I got a chance."

James stared, which made Remus smile. "I was as surprised as you are that he listened," he told James.

Sirius shot him a look that James couldn't read. "Well, you were right," he said, softer than James expected. "I was pissed, but—not enough to not see that."

"I know," said Remus, equally genuine. "I'm glad. Thank you."

Then they looked away. The moment passed. James fell back against his pillows, sighing. "Anyone want to nick your brave leader a pile of eclairs?" he said. "

"Definitely," said Peter immediately. Sirius, still full of pent-up energy, went with him, leaving the room in blessed quiet.

After a minute, James realized he could feel Remus looking at him. He sat up, enough to look back. "What?"

"That really was well done," said Remus.

James tamped down his immediate first urge to deflect, or even tease Remus for being sincere. "You too," he said. "Between the two of us maybe we can keep Sirius from murdering or getting murdered this year."

Remus snorted. "It would take a better man than either of us to do _that_ ," he said. "With the way things are going."

"Well, it's good to have goals."

"I know my own limits," Remus said. "Even this year, I doubt I'll be able to keep him out of _any_ real trouble."

James blinked, feeling he'd missed something. "Er—this year? Why this year?"

Remus gave him an odd look, equal parts confused and—was that pity? Again? "Never mind," he said. "Go to sleep. If you manage it in the next ten minutes, they won't wake you up when they come back with food."

"Thanks for the soothing words, I'm very relaxed now," James said, but he took his friend's advice and laid back down.  
  


_Remus actually managed to keep Sirius from going too far, and got him to listen._

This was one that had happened once or twice before, but never in such a high stakes situation. Never when holding back meant not breaking Lucius Malfoy's nose. 

James thought about it for a minute, then added: _Sirius trusts him._

Which wouldn't be remarkable, except that one thing the two of them had always had in common was their reluctance to trust literally anybody. But they seemed to have become exceptions to each other's rules, in ways that halted even Sirius's impulsiveness in its tracks.

James tapped his quill against the edge of the desk, thinking. If they had a connection that was unique and special to them, had it evolved into something he wasn't understanding?

 _Item #5_. He had a feeling he knew the answer to the overwhelming question that he was rolling towards. He just wasn't _sure_ , and he didn't quite have proof yet.

What he really couldn't figure out was why they wouldn't just _tell_ him.  
  


"Remus and I are dating," said Sirius, over dinner, two days into the start of term.

"Right," said James. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on. And pass me the butter."

Sirius handed it to him, but he wasn't grinning at his own joke, not even a little. "Er—James? You didn't hear what I just said?"

"Oh I heard you," said James. "Really, if you're trying to get one over on me, you could be more original. I'm dating Snivellus, or, fucking the Giant Squid, now _that_ would make me take notice—"

"Right," said Sirius, with a heavy sigh. "You got me. Such a jokester, ha ha."

"You really are off your game," said James. "You spent too much time at Moony's house this summer, not enough time at mine."

"Yes," said Sirius. "Because we're _dating_. I wanted to snog him. A lot. That's why I was at his house. Or rather, very much _not_ at his house, at least whenever his parents were around."

"Why are we still talking about this?"

"Because I want you to know," Sirius said. "Since we all have to be in the same room now. I would've sooner, except it was new and I wasn't sure how you'd react, but it seems to be working out and we thought you deserved to know."

"Right, right, but keeping at it is not gonna make me fall for it," said James. "Come on, you know that. It didn't work, let it go, move on. Now be serious, heh, what do you think it would take to make Dumbledore's hat sing opera? I think that would be a good start-of-term prank."

"Dunno," said Sirius. "Let's see what Remus thinks."

They finished dinner with the usual banter, and no more terrible attempts to prank James.

Which was why James was so surprised when Remus cornered him the next day, with an intent look on his face.

"James," he said. "I know Sirius talked to you yesterday and you didn't believe him, so maybe coming from me you'll actually hear it, but—look, we really are, you know. Together."

"Yeees," said James. "I saw you together earlier today, in Potions?"

"No," said Remus. "It's like Sirius said. _Together_ together. Dating. We're dating."

"You know I've lived with you two idiots for six years, right? Sirius is going to have to work much harder if he wants to mess with my head, whatever plan he's got just isn't going to work. Now come on, we have research to do."

"Research?

"Yes, on the opera thing. Our first big prank of the year? You two are apparently talking, he didn't tell you about that?"

"Oh, he told me," said Remus, sounding exasperated. "Just don't say I didn't warn you if he doesn't have the attention span for research right now."

"What, because he's too distracted thinking about snogging you? Come on, you've got to stop this, we have work to do."

"That is exactly what I meant," said Remus, but James was already walking away, towards the Common Room, where they could all start thinking about something sensible.  
  


_Tried to prank me by telling me they were dating, then started...acting a lot...like they were dating..._

James threw his quill down, staring in horror at the list he'd made. Was this all just part of an elaborate prank that they'd been working on for three months? Had they both succeeded in making him question everything he thought he knew, in possibly the longest con ever?

No. No, it couldn't be. James took several deep breaths, steadying himself, remembering why he was doing this in the first place. After all, for four days straight, Sirius had been glaring at him out of the corner of his eye every time he thought James wasn't looking. And Remus seemed to be suppressing a long-suffering sigh whenever they spoke.

That wasn't the behavior of two people waiting for their long-term prank to pay off. After all, if they'd really been trying to fool him, they would've arranged for him to walk in on them snogging at _least_ once—there were _so_ many easier ways to do this.

Easier ways than just being themselves and waiting for James to catch on.

"Merlin's balls, they're actually dating," James said out loud, then immediately looked around nervously to make sure Madame Pince wasn't about to throw him out of a window.

Thankfully, he was alone. Maybe even the ancient librarian was out in the sun today.

He turned back to his list, stared at it for another moment, then abruptly crumpled it in his hand.

"Right," he said, and stood up from his chair. He knew what he had to do.  
  


They weren't even on the grounds. James knew this, because he walked all over them, scouring every inch of the Lake looking for his idiot friends, before storming back into the castle only to find them in the dormitory. And once he saw them, he was even more furious, because they'd pushed Sirius's bed against the wall with the open window and were lounging on it with their backs to the wall, leaning into each other, and their feet quite literally tangled together.

How had it taken him this long?

"You utter _nobs_ ," he said, slamming the door behind him. "I thought you were joking!"

They looked up at the noise, but didn't move. "Joking about what?" said Remus.

James gestured wildly. " _This_!"

They looked at each other, then back at him. "We did tell you," Sirius pointed out. "Twice."

"Right, but—but—" James sagged, and sat down on his own bed. "For fuck's sake," he said, finally. He couldn't think of anything else.

"That's what I said," Remus told him. "Repeatedly."

"He did, too," said Siruis. "So did I, actually."

"Christ," said James, with feeling. "No wonder Lily always looks at me like she wants to beat me around the head with a book, I do not know what's going on around me. Ever."

Sirius snickered, which made Remus grin, and then they were both cracking up. After a moment, James joined in. He richly deserved to be laughed at, after all.

"I am sorry, you know," he said, when it had died down a bit. "It's just, you know, Sirius, one time at the beginning of term you tried to convince me you'd spent the summer eloping with McGonagall. The trust is gone, a bit."

"James, that was after a summer that I didn't spend holed up at your place the entire time. You asked me how my summer went and I didn't want to tell you what it was actually like."

Right. He'd forgotten about that. "I really am an idiot," he said.

Sirius waved this away. "It doesn't matter. Honestly, we're just glad you figured it out at all. It was starting to get annoying."

"Yes, I noticed you glaring. Does Peter know?"

"If Peter notices, fine, but we're not telling him," said Remus. "It's not a secret, exactly, but—we don't know how he'll react, and if it's bad, we don't want all of Hogwarts talking about this. There's too much else going on, and you know what Snape and Malfoy would be like."

"Peter can keep secrets," James said. "No one knows about the Animagus thing. Or about Remus."

"Still," said Sirius firmly. "Look, it's not that we don't trust him, just—well, do _you_ want to have this conversation with him?"

James tried to picture it, and shuddered. "Right. You really care that much what people think?"

Remus shrugged. "It's not just the Slytherins," he said. "Even the people who wouldn't mind, you know? How would you feel if your personal life was a topic of debate?"

James must not have looked convinced, because Sirius said, "We'll tell him after we graduate, okay? It won't matter as much then."

"Unless I'm trying to get a job," Remus murmured.

"That's why we tell Peter and have him keep it under wraps, not the entire school. No one will notice then if he acts a little off for a while."

James heard all this, but he couldn't focus on anything they were saying, because he was still thrown off. "After graduation?" he said, interrupting. "You'll still be—wow, really?"

They exchanged another glance, one James couldn't read.

"Yes," said Remus gently, at the same time as Sirius said "'Fraid so, mate."

"Wow," said James, and then, "All right. So if anyone does catch on I'll singlehandedly murder them if they try to give you shit, and you continue to snog in places that are nowhere near me, how does that sound? Good?"

"Pretty good," Remus said, with a grin.

Sirius, though, looked thoughtful. "But say you're not around, and your bed is free, and—"

"ALL RIGHT," said James, loudly. "LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT THIS. HOW'S THE HOMEWORK COMING. GOOD? GOOD. SEE YOU LATER."

And he made an extremely graceful exit, ignoring the twin howls of laughter behind him, while telling himself very sternly not to smile, this wasn't funny at all.

It turned out he actually knew four things for certain, and they were as follows:

  1. Sirius Black wasn't just fascinated by the mystery of Remus Lupin, he was absolutely besotted with him.
  2. Remus Lupin was endlessly amused by Sirius Black, to the point that he returned the affection tenfold.
  3. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were apparently in it for the long haul, a fact which made them both extremely happy.
  4. They'd only been angry at James because they trusted him enough to share this information with him and he hadn't believed them. But that was settled now.
  5. Lily Evans was eventually going to fall in love with him.



Okay, so that was five things. Still. It had been a productive afternoon.

James allowed himself to grin, and headed out to the castle grounds to enjoy the sunshine, whistling cheerfully the whole way there.


	2. coda: words like silent raindrops fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Silence like a cancer grows_   
>  _Hear my words that I might teach you_   
>  _Take my arms that I might reach you_   
>  _But my words, like silent raindrops fell_   
>  _And echoed in the wells of silence_
> 
>  
> 
> \--Simon & Garfunkel, "The Sound of Silence"

"I shouldn't need to tell you, Potter, that no matter who attacked who first, it's bad form for _anyone_ to incite their fellow student to violence, especially as a leader, as Head Boy—"

James listened, trying to school his face into the blank expression of innocence he always wore when getting a dressing-down from McGonagall, but found he couldn't, just absolutely couldn't, not this time.

"I know, okay?" He snapped, too annoyed all of a sudden even to be shocked at his own daring. "I know. It was a Slytherin move, right out of their playbook, dirty and manipulative. But Professor—I couldn't. I just _couldn't_. If you'd seen what they were doing to those First Years—"

" _Potter_ ," she said, severely. He shut up. "You're just going to have to find other ways of doing things, no matter how noble the cause. Do you understand that?"

 _Yes_ , said James's mind, but that's not what came out of his mouth. "No," he said. _Fuck! I got those backwards! You're supposed to think "no" but SAY "yes," you idiot!_

"Excuse me?"

" _No_ ," said James. "No, I don't understand. Explain it to me, will you? Explain to me what the proper response is to walking in on Malfoy torturing First Years and using his father's racism to justify it. Please. I'd love to know what better way I could've handled it."

He wasn't expecting McGonagall's silence, then heavy sigh. He wasn't expecting her to take off her glasses and cover her face with her hands, suddenly looking old, older than he'd ever seen her.

The fire of rage he'd felt since he walked in on Malfoy in the corridor subsided, to be replaced by a tiredness that probably almost matched hers,.

He sighed, too. "I'm sorry, Professor. I'll—just take points next time, I guess."

"No," said McGonagall. " _I'm_ sorry. 

"For what?" said James, now thrown completely off course.

"That you're sixteen and having to ask questions like this," she said. Then she put her glasses back on, schooled her face, and looked at him carefully.

Somehow, this time, it wasn't quite as terrifying to be under her scrutinizing eye.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore," she said, finally. "Maybe the Headmaster will have an answer for how to deal with—everything."

"Okay?" said James, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

"You're dismissed, Potter," said McGonagall.

James left before she could change her mind.  
  


"But really," said Sirius, for what he knew was the hundredth time, he just couldn't help himself, "How has he not figured it out?"

"I don't _know_ ," said Remus, also for the hundredth time. "I mean, you flat out told him. _I_ flat-out told him."

Sirius had said, when James asked them yet again why they didn't want to come, that he and Remus wanted some alone time, to get some proper snogging in without him and Peter hanging around cockblocking them.

James had rolled his eyes theatrically and left without another word.

"He thinks it's a _joke_ ," said Sirius. "How could we joke about this?"

"Well, you do joke about literally everything," Remus pointed out. Sirius took a moment, despite this ridiculous slander, to appreciate the amused smile on Remus's face and the way it warmed his already-warm brown eyes and made his nose—and its eight freckles, freckles that only appeared after summer vacation—scrunch.

"Yes, well," Sirius said, trying not to get too distracted. "Not about anything _serious_."

"You joke about serious things all the time, Sirius," said Remus. Sirius felt himself fall just a little bit more at the old joke. Remus just said it so solemnly, like he could be saying it by accident, and you wouldn't know what a little shit he was unless you really knew him. "In third year you told James you spent the summer taking up piracy and falling in love with a jellyfish that you had to tragically abandon after only three dates."

Sirius remembered. That had been the year he'd been forced to spend at Bellatrix and Narcissa's house, listening to their mum and dad spout Pureblood rhetoric nonstop and getting punished whenever he said anything out of turn. On top of that, Narcissa and Bellatrix had watched him, both tattling—or tormenting them on their own—every time he did any "unapproved activity."

His parents had hoped they would be a good influence on him. Instead, he and Andromeda had spent every spare minute they could find together, pranking the House Elf and generally making as much of a nuisance of themselves as they could without getting caught.

It had been miserable. The pirate thing had been a recurring daydream, saved for the worst days.

That wasn't the point, though. "James knows about all that now," he said. "And anyway, I spent the whole summer with him. And with—well."

"I remember," said Remus, with a mischievous glint in his eye that Sirius had spent what felt like a lifetime trying to draw out of him.

"So I didn't need to make anything up. So why does he still think we're joking?"

"I don't know," Remus said again. "But look, we've got the whole day to ourselves. We didn't get detention, everyone's in Hogsmeade, and James and Peter are both out of the dormitory. Can we talk about something else?"

Sirius felt a smile blossom onto his face, and Remus's answering grin was like the sun coming out.

"Why, Mr. Moony," he said, leaning into Remus's personal space. "It almost sounds like you had something in mind. But to be honest with you, I didn't really want to spend much time talking."

Remus laughed, bright and happy, and that did it. Sirius kissed him, too impatient for Remus to do it first, too ready to taste that smile and have it all to himself.  
  


"And a last note for today's meeting, Dumbledore asked us to notify you that anyone caught using the curse Malfoy tried to use on James will be _severely_ punished," Lily said, and was gratified to see that the Prefects gathered in the empty Transfiguration classroom all nodded solemnly. "Fifty points from their house, six weeks of detention, banned from Quidditch practice _and_ games, in case the student isn't a Quidditch player."

"Which is the same punishment Malfoy got, said James. She shot him a look, because that sounded a bit like bragging, but he wasn't finished. "The Professors are emphasizing that this was because of the nature of the curse. It's a nasty one, and they want the punishment to match the crime. For _everyone_."

Maggie Carter, one of the Ravenclaws, put up a hand. When Lily nodded at her, she said, "And what about the stuff Malfoy was doing to those first years? Is he being punished for that as well?"

"He's had Hogsmeade weekends taken away," said Lily, knowing that wouldn't satisfy anyone. "And two extra weeks of detention."

As expected, the Prefects—except for the two fifth year Slytherins, whose faces remained stoic—all exchanged mutinous glances.

"He should have his Prefect badge revoked," said Dorothy Underwood, one of the Hufflepuffs. 

"That's not up to us," said James. There was a note of steely anger in his voice that startled Lily.

"It's because his father is one of the school governors," muttered Will Davies.

"I suggest you submit a complaint to Dumbledore," said Lily quickly, trying to think on her feet. "And encourage any first years to have them or their families do the same."

"If they're Muggleborns, no one will listen to them," said Maggie.

"Do it anyway," said James. "And if Dumbledore doesn't listen, keep doing it. Those of you who aren't Muggleborns and think this is wrong? Do the same. Say you want them to read and listen to their complaints. If your voice is heard over someone else's, the best thing you can do with that visibility is try and get everyone to listen to them."

Lily couldn't help it. She stared.

And then shook herself, because now was not the time to wonder what had gotten into James Potter recently. "Right," she said. "This meeting is adjourned, you all have rounds to start."

She said it with enough finality that the three prefects who had all opened their mouths to argue shut them abruptly and left without complaint.

When everyone was gone, she turned to James. "It won't work," she said without preamble.

"I know," he said. He sounded tired, all of a sudden. Why did he sound tired? "They'll just find a way to do it where no one sees. Trust me—I know."

"Plus they're too powerful," said Lily. "This group of Prefects is a good bunch, but too many people think they've got the right idea. Dumbledore can't singlehandedly fix that."

"I know that too," James said. "I talked to McGonagall earlier and she all but admitted they have no idea what to do."

Something about that was even more disturbing than the knowledge that all the letter-writing campaigns in the world wouldn't stop the school governors. "Fuck," she said, after a minute.

James didn't even tease her about the expletive. He just nodded. "On that note," he said. "We have our own rounds to do. See you next meeting?"

"Yes," said Lily, and watched him hop off McGonagall's desk, where he'd been sitting. "Later, Potter," she offered as he walked out.

He shot her a smile over his shoulder. "Later, Evans."

But Lily stayed in the classroom for a few more minutes, thinking. She'd thought she'd known for sure that James Potter was an arrogant, self-aggrandizing prick with an unfair and nasty chip on his shoulders towards Slytherins just for being Slytherin, not because of anything else they did. Now it turned out that the feud was becoming serious, and had serious issues at its roots, issues which she could no longer ignore and was in fact being swept right into the middle of.

She'd also thought, once, that Hogwarts was for everyone who could do magic, and anyone who said otherwise was an idiot on the wrong side of history. That they were losing. That she'd be able to show them, by being better and smarter than everyone, that she had earned her place here and wasn't going anywhere.

She wasn't so sure about that anymore, either.

It turned out she knew absolutely nothing for certain, and the thing she understood least of all was James Potter.

What a year this was turning out to be.  
  


_L’amour est un oiseau rebelle, que nul ne peut apprivoiser, et c’est bien in vain qu’on l’appelle s’il lui convient de refuser…_

Dumbledore closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, peacefully. He'd been reading angry letters from Pureblood parents for hours, and more earnest ones from other parents, which were even harder to read in their own way, and he had a headache. He also had a lot more work to do, but the music was lovely, and his hat was singing it so well.

Later, he'd tell the Malfoy boy's father why his son couldn't bully first years. He'd explain to the school governors that no matter how much money he was giving them, they had to at least try to be fair. He'd do his best to reassure the parents of Muggleborns that their children were safe.

He would. He would try his best, and it wouldn't be enough, but maybe they'd weather the storm.

_L’oiseau que tu croyais surprendere, battit d’aile et s’envola..._

But for now...well, he had always loved opera.

**Author's Note:**

> "Wow, Ang," you might be saying, "that got real dark a couple times."
> 
> Yes. Yes, it did. Please stand by for my 8,000 word essay on Hogwarts educational and discplinary reform, with breaks for 500 words of Sirius and Remus being disgusting. I hope you'll all enjoy it as much as you've enjoyed the other nonsense I've been churning out.
> 
> The song Dumbledore's hat is singing at the very end is "Habanera," from the opera _Carmen_.


End file.
